I like to face windows - at home, in restaurants, at the office. During a meeting today I faced the windows so I could enjoy the big blue sky and all the sunshine on this perfect summer day.
At one point during the meeting with a board member, our CEO, COO and another colleague, I could barely contain myself as one of those planes that flies banners was in the sky with a huge sign reading
How does one make the top bunk?
Especially when the kid who sleeps in it is a pack rat?
We've waited to get bunk beds until the boys were 6 years old. They were a month shy of their birthday when we bought them last month. Their feet were sticking out of the end of their toddler beds but their bedroom is too small for two twin beds so we waited.
One boy declared - for months - that he was sleeping on the top bunk. The other one was fine with this arrangement and never publicly longed to be in the top bunk. Then the first night and sheer panic set in for the guy on the top. He refused to sleep in his new bed. Complained the new red sheets were too bumpy among other things. The list seemed endless.
Then his brother offered to switch and take the top bunk. And like that, equilibrium was achieved in their reconfigured bedroom.
Now the top bunk kid (formerly of the bottom bunk) is the pack rat. This morning as I was changing the top bunk I had to contend with:
a pillow
quilt
comforter
his Summer 2006 journal in a plastic bag
silver ribbon tied to the railing
his bank
plastic container with pencils and notepads
6 plastic cups and matching bowls (for when he plays restaurant)
art projects from camp
his favorite stuffed animal (a lamb named Bobby)
pocket schedule for the local MLS team
several business size envelopes each holding something
clipboard with paper
There I am, on top of the mattress, lifting up the corners and trying not to let everything fall behind the bed. I can't get the sheet to sit snuggly on the wall side of the mattress. I feel like I'm wrestling but already pining down my opponent, unable to finish him off.
Then, does a nearly 6 year old really care if his bed has army corners?
One night my son suggested we all draw after dinner. "What should we draw?" I asked. "Posters for peace!" said the other one, "That way President Bush will see them when he drives by."
We live in one of the bluest states in the country. There is no way the President will drive by and see our little posters for Peace.
"Why do you want to draw these?"
"Because of the picture in the paper. The one with the man carrying the woman." He was describing a photo on the front page of our local newspaper.
I've tried for years to shield my children from the news. They never heard about the tsunami in 2004. I turn off the radio so we can't hear news from the Middle East and we usually hide the newspaper. Although clearly I didn't get the picture with the photographer carrying the elderly woman out of view.
Now as almost 6-year-olds they are old enough. To talk about wars, natural disasters and other calamities. Because they believe that posting hand drawn Peace signs will make President Bush stop all the fighting.
I couldn't get my two-year-old to fall back to sleep to "finish" her nap. Finish being relative since she only needed half an hour that day while I needed her to sleep for much longer, like half the day.
I wrestled with her on my bed, asking, begging, pleading with her to go to sleep. "No" she would yell. Over and over. "I go dow-stairs! I GO DOW-STAIRS!"
Then after 10 minutes she bellowed "I wanna go to Margaret's! I wanna go to MARGARET'S!"
I nearly fell out of the bed. Margaret is my friend I saw almost once a week with my twins for over 4 years until last fall. I haven't spent much time with her since my work scheduled changed to 4 1/2 days a week. I miss her terribly. Out of the blue, my daughter yelled out what I had thought for months.
Me too, baby girl. I wanna go to Margaret's too.
I've been writing for an office blog - a practice "sandbox" - to see how a system change organization can use blogs and Wiki to change the world. Or at least help low-income women become economically independent. Not that many poor people have blogged their way to self-sufficiency. But once that is up and running I'll be sure to link to it.
I want to write my own things. I'm definitely the one on the office blog who keeps writing when no one else does. So time to jump on my own.
Musings of a soccer mom in denial. I have three mostly amazing kids who drive me nuts and make me love them more every day. I drive a mini-van (that's called "mom's car") complete with a soccer air freshener. Yet I've convinced my kids that Erasure and Eurythmics are children's music so now we are listening to "Right By Your Side" over and over again. Better than Barney...
I wrote a novel, and I am still editing it.
